


From the First to the Fifteenth

by Silveriss



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Dorks, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, I'm Bad At Titles, Jo is nonbinary, No Angst, No Drama, One-Shot, POV First Person, Sapphic, Switch of POV at the line, all characters are of age, fluffy fluff, only fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7731364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silveriss/pseuds/Silveriss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time I see you, you're sitting on the concrete, hands hanging between your knees, neck crooked because you're looking up at the sky.<br/>The second time I see you, you're walking down my street wearing black shorts, and suspenders on a white tee-shirt. I walk behind you for a while, and I eventually remember you.<br/>You make me smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the First to the Fifteenth

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!  
> It's me again, with a one-shot again! This time it's just fluff. Fluffy sapphic fluff.
> 
> Enjoy!

The first time I see you, you're a shadow in a street. Sitting curled up on the concrete, hands hanging between your knees, neck crooked because you're looking up at the sky. It's raining. I stop to take a look at you from the other side of the street. You make me smile.

The second time I see you, you're walking down my street wearing black shorts, and suspenders on a white tee-shirt. I walk behind you for a while, and I eventually remember you. You make me smile again.

The third and fourth times I see you, you're in a shirt and jeans and leaning against a random wall in my neighborhood. I notice how black your short hair is, and how you're shorter than me.

The fifth time you're wearing a black suit and a white shirt but no tie, and you're whistling a tune I don't recognize. When I walk past you, you smile. You have a very pretty smile, so I smile back.

The sixth time, you get out of this coffee shop's bathroom just as I'm about to go in, and you smile and tip your hat at me. I snort and mimic your gesture with thin air. Your eyes lit up - they're a mysterious shade of green. My own eyes follow you as you walk away, and I notice your hips. You're wearing black pants, suspenders and a white shirt. I don't immediately realize how widely I'm grinning.

The seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth and eleventh times, you're sitting alone at the counter of my favorite bar. I'm sitting alone at a table somewhere, working on my computer. I'm only able to catch a glimpse of you when I leave, and each time you smile and wave at me. You always look genuinely glad to see me, so I wave back every time.

The twelfth time, you're wearing jeans and a shirt, and seating on a porch in my street. When I come to your level, you light up and let me hear your voice for the first time. I greet you back, smiling. I want to ask you what you're doing seated here, but my phone starts ringing. "You better answer that," you say, and I pull out a face that makes you laugh. We wave at each other as I pick up my phone and start walking again. I don't really pay much attention to what Jo has to say.

The thirteenth time I see you happens one month and two days after that first time when you were sitting under the rain. You are seated on a stool, arms crossed on the counter of my favorite bar, a pint of ale in front of you. You don't see me when I walk in, but you see me when I sit on the stool next to you. You're wearing a black suit jacket, jeans, a white shirt much like mine, and a hat.

You smile and say: "Hey, you."

I smile and say: "Hey. Nice hat."

You tip your hat at me with a grin.

"Thank you, milady! You're wearing a pretty nice tie yourself." You punctuate that last sentence with a wink. I grin and order a pint of stout.

It is a nice tie - black, with white flowers - and my favorite. "Thank you. It used to be my father's."

Your eyes do a quick up and down as you bring your pint up to your lips. "It suits you."

I smile and thank the bartender for the pint, then take a solid swallow of beer because my throat feels dry. You snort when I put the glass down. I send you a questioning look and you put your forefinger under your nose with a grin so wide it makes me feel lightheaded. I laugh and lick the mustache of head I have under my nose, then hold a hand out to you. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Cleo."

You shake my hand and your grip is firm and your skin damp from the glass. "Likewise, Cleo," you say, grinning probably as much as I am, "I'm Soboen." I repeat your name in my head, rocking it back and forth, slowly, and I think it suits you. "You can just call me So," you then add with a wink. I drink a sip of my beer to hide the warmth spreading up my neck.

"So, Cleo..." You catch my eyes with yours. "How long have you been coming to the Caravel?"

I do a quick calculation in my head. "I'd say around half a year... But I've never seen you here before about a month ago," I add with a raise of my eyebrows.

You nod and take a sip of your ale. "I moved into the neighborhood only a couple months a ago."

"Yeah?" I ask, dying to know more. Your eyes are so bright, I'm captivated by you and the way light dances on your features.

"Yeah, needed a change of settings." I want to know what created this need, but I choose not to ask. There's so much I don't know about you yet, I want to take my time. The bitterness of my stout runs down my throat and calms my excitement. We finish our pints at the same time.

"Do you like it here?"

You take a second to think. "Yes, I do." There's a slight shift in the mood and suddenly your eyes grow more intense. "It's a big city, lots of things to see."

The space between us shrinks. "New places to explore."

"New people to meet."

We're both grinning like idiots, confident in our bubble, when a stranger pops it up by asking for a lighter. You tip you hat down on your eyes and tell the guy we don't have one, I turn away and bury my face in crossed arms. When the guy's gone, I steal a peek of your face and our eyes meet. We're both blushing like crazy. You wiggle your eyebrows at me and it's all we need to burst out laughing.

"Please," I manage to say between two fits of giggles, " _please_ tell me you're not taken."

You immediately regain a serious face and raise a hand, and then declare with the most solemn voice I've ever heard you use: "Single as a Pringle." At first I just snort, but then I catch your eyes and you wink, and sure enough we're cracking up again.

As we struggle to catch our breaths I glance at you. You're wiping tears at the corner of your eyes and grinning, smiling, golden skin shining in the dimmed light of the bar, dimples in your cheeks. I want to kiss them. I let my head rest on my arms without freeing you from my eyes. You're dazzling. I feel light as a feather, electrified, butterflies dancing in my stomach. I feel fire in my cheeks and power in my heart.

You ask me if you can buy my a drink. I say yes. We clink glasses together and you say: "To our meeting," and I wink and say: "To the cutest girl I've ever met."

You laugh and we blush and we drink, and we talk all night long until the bar closes, and I bring you home and we fall asleep on my bed without even a kiss.

* * *

When I wake up after the thirteenth time I saw you - yes, I counted, but I know you did too so you have no right to judge me - I'm lying in your bed with all my clothes on. I'm facing a wall of books, impressive bookshelves, and when I turn around you're here.

You're lying on your stomach, fire hair a curly mane around your sleeping face, freeing itself from your hair tie, freckles of lava bedecking ivory skin, pink lips slightly parted in a comic pout. Yellow morning light filters through the shutters and makes you sparkle. You take away my breath, but I'd let you take my heart too if you asked.

I stay on my side watching you, contemplating the way you breath. I feel something wide expanding in my chest. After a while it becomes a bit too much and I get the urge to get up and _do_ something.

So I make you breakfast.

The fourteenth time we see each other, I'm making pancakes in your kitchen and you're leaning against the door frame, watching me with the sweetest smile. You pour us two cappuccinos and I tell you how I'm gonna have to steal your coffee machine when I leave. You tell me I can just come by whenever I want good coffee.

I grin. "Only for the coffee."

You say nothing and wink at me.

The fifteenth time we see each other is the first time we kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! :D  
> Please consider leaving me a review, long or short, positive or negative - they are the suns of my rainy days. ;D
> 
> (NB: The Jo mentioned in this OS is the same as in "The Coldness of the Steering Wheel, the Warmth of her Hands".)
> 
> Have an amazing day ~


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